


The Little Things

by Khiori63



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khiori63/pseuds/Khiori63
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's the little things that matter most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

I never really noticed how much the little things mattered until we became lovers.  No, scratch that.  Not when we became lovers because that was only a week ago and I already knew him quite well by then.  Certainly much better than when I first beamed aboard.  Oh, I knew a little bit about him at the time.  I knew he was half human.  I knew he was very intelligent and according to Captain Pike, extremely loyal, almost to a fault.  I knew that he was a bit of a loner, rarely, if ever, socializing with the crew.  But then as time went by, I learned so much more about him.  Like how he had principles that he wouldn’t compromise, no matter what.  And how fond he was of chess and how pleased he was when I began joining him for games.  And that his favorite food was plomeek soup and that I could bribe him to do just about anything for a plate of chocolate ice cream.  And most of all, I learned that underneath that cold exterior he presented to the universe was a warm, caring, and gentle soul that was crying out for understanding and love. 

 

 Yes, it’s the little things that make my friend, now lover, who he truly is – a crazy patchwork of someone who is so wise in so many ways and yet still possesses a childlike innocence and naiveté that only a privileged few are allowed to see. 

 

 So I guess that’s why I’m standing in front of his quarters an hour after shift’s end, with a plate holding a generous portion of chocolate cake – another one of his weaknesses – and wondering exactly what it is I’m doing here.  I did have other plans this evening – a workout in the gym, dinner with Bones, a couple of hours tackling the endless paperwork that was the bane of every starship captain’s life.  As for Spock, he’s supposed to be resting.  The rough time he had on Gamma Trianguli VI left him more than a little bruised and battered, and Bones thought it was best he take a couple days off to recover.  Not that Spock agreed with the good doctor’s prescription, but then again, he never did.  Which meant he was probably sitting in front of his terminal right now, lost in yet another “fascinating” research project.  It was just another of those little things I know about him, small, yet important things.  Like having a soft spot for chocolate. 

 

 I reach for the buzzer, then hesitate.  If he actually is resting, I don’t want to disturb him.  Plus, how do I explain doing so in order to give him something I usually tease him about indulging in?  Maybe I should just go back to my quarters.  Or I could sneak in and leave the cake on his desk.  But then again, with those supersensitive Vulcan ears, he’d probably hear me before I took more than two steps.  So I might as well just use the buzzer.

 

 For a long moment there’s no response, then I hear the sound of shuffling footsteps.  I feel a slight twinge of guilt, which increases as the door slides open and I see the tousled hair and hastily donned robe. 

 

 But despite the fact I’ve disturbed his rest, he shows no sign of annoyance, not that he ever would.  “Jim?  Is there…”  His voice trails off as he catches sight of what’s in my hand.  His eyes rise to meet mine, a brow cocked in obvious puzzlement.

 

 I grin.  “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d come visit.”  The brow rises even higher as I thrust the plate into his hands.  “For you.”

 

 His eyes light up in sheer surprise and delight, as if I’ve brought him some rare, unique treasure.  Oh, I’ve given countless gifts to lovers before, but none ever appreciated them the way he does.  He’s so easy to please, it still surprises me. Yet there’s no denying his joy is real.

 

 Moments later we’re sitting at his desk and I watch the cake disappear with amazing speed.  When it’s gone, he dabs at his lips with a napkin, then looks at me and nods toward the empty plate.  “May I ask what is the reason for this?”

 

 I shrug.  “I just thought you’d enjoy it.”

 

 He gives me that look, the one where I feel like he can see right through me.  It’s unnerving when he does that, as if I’m made of glass and there’s nothing about me that he doesn’t know.  Despite the fact that we’ve been friends for so long and now lovers, I’m still not sure I’m ready to share the “wolf” deep inside me that was exposed so brutally when the transporter split me in two.  Like most people, I don’t like to admit I have a dark side and it’s pretty terrifying to have all your ugly little secrets out there for the one person who matters most to you to see.  Yet Spock never turned away from the wolf, was never repulsed by it, rather, he embraced it and taught me to do so, as well.  I know now, as I knew then, it was and is because he loves me for who I am, dark side and all.  Every one should be so lucky to have someone like him in their lives.

 

 After a moment, he nods.  “I see.  Although I am surprised you did not indulge yourself, as well.”

 

 “Don’t think I didn’t want to.  But then Bones would have me eating nothing but salad for the next two weeks.”  I shifted slightly in my chair.  “So how do you feel?”

 

 “As I have already explained to the good doctor, I am fully recovered.  There is no reason I should not return to duty.”

 

 “Well, why don’t we let Bones be the judge of that?”  I held up a hand at the expected protest.  “But I’ll have him stop by tomorrow morning and check you over.  If he agrees with you, then I’ll see you on the bridge”

 

 He hesitates, then nods.  He gestures at the empty plate.  “Thank you.”

 

 I know, as he does, it’s not just the cake he’s thanking me for.  I guess it never was.  I smile at him.  “You’re welcome.”

 

 I rise and start toward the door, only to be stopped by a gentle touch on my arm.  “Jim?”

 

I turn. "Yes, Spock?"

 

 He glances at the bed, then back at me.  “Stay?”

 

 Something deep inside me starts to melt.  “Of course I’ll stay.”

 

 Moments later we’re under the covers; his head nestled on my shoulder, his breathing settling into the steady rhythm of sleep.  I stroke the dark hair, my gaze sweeping across the room to rest on his firepot.  It gives off a soft, red glow, bathing the room in peace and serenity.  It’s a symbol of his heritage, one that is so different from mine. 

 

 Still, despite that difference, I know him as well as he knows me.  I know that, on the surface, he appears calm and collected, yet underneath it all, he suffers the same insecurities and doubts that I do.  I know when he’s mad and I know just what makes him happy.  I’ve seen him cry and I’ve seen him scared, and I know that no one else has ever seen him like that.  I’ve even seen him at his worst possible moment, something I will never tell another living soul.   
          
 That’s why I really showed up tonight.  Not just to give him the cake, but to let him know how much he means to me.  And that no matter what comes along, good or bad, we will always have each other.

 

  I guess that’s what love really is - all those little things that at the end of the day, matter most of all.  I know how blessed I am to have this special being in my life and I know he feels the same way too.  
          
 And there’s nothing little about that at all.

 


End file.
